Flood evacuation a rerun for Bosnian refugee family
By Karyn Spencer
The Forum
The burning buildings, camouflage uniforms and howling emergency sirens were all too familiar for Nikica Todorovic.

He moved to Grand Forks, N.D., three years ago to escape the war in his native Bosnia.

Now the flood has made him a refugee again.

"It’s a shock. You’re enjoying your comfortable life, and you had to go back to refugee status again," he said Wednesday. "It’s not bombs, it’s water – I don’t care, I had to flee."

Todorovic is one of at least 50 Bosnian refugees who fled as floodwater and fire raged last weekend in Grand Forks.

"That’s the same situation Bosnians are used to," refugee Radomir Curic said with a laugh.

He is staying at the American Red Cross evacuation center with 12 other Bosnian families. They’re sleeping on cots in a Nemzek Hall gymnasium at Moorhead State University. A few more families remain at the Grand Forks Air Force Base shelter.

Some moved to Grand Forks only last week, and another family of three arrives today. "There is no one in Grand Forks. What are we supposed to do with this guy?" Todorovic said.

The new arrivals, Curic’s brother, sister-in-law and their 7-year-old, purchased their plane tickets long before flood season. They will arrive in Fargo today and move into the shelter with the other families.

"I just told him, ‘Grand Forks – lake,’" Curic says, laughing.

Todorovic arrived in Grand Forks May 25, 1994. He was a former prisoner of war and asked to move to a small city in America.

His move prompted a chain of 50 relatives and friends to come to Grand Forks, where they all live within a block of each other.

"I came first," Todorovic said. "I feel responsible for all of these people because they were in Grand Forks because I was there."

Todorovic works as a tool and die maker for Young Manufacturing, a company that helps support the refugees in Grand Forks.

He finally had settled into a comfortable life here. "After five years in Bosnia, now you have your own bed, your own apartment, your own bathroom," he said. "After a couple of months – boom – you have to leave again."

The evacuations dredged up chilling memories of their homeland, recollections that North Dakotans didn’t have to face.

"As soon as we heard the sirens, we were kind of like someone hit you in the head with a big hammer," Todorovic said. "Oh, geez, not again. We knew what was coming. They didn’t."

In Bosnia, they moved from house to house to flee the enemy, Todorovic said. There was no electricity, food or water.

Here, they live at the Red Cross shelter, pick from donated clothes and ate their first hot meal Wednesday.

"In this situation, everybody likes to help. In war, everybody just kills," Curic says. "Everything is different."

His 9-year-old daughter, Vanja, recognizes the biggest difference. "Nobody’s screaming or anything," she says.

While they wait out the flood, the refugees have offered to volunteer at the Salvation Army, and those who arrived last week might enroll in English classes.

"We have survived worse in Bosnia," Todorovic said. "And we’ll survive this."